


The Roaring 20's

by jemscarstair



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 1920's setting, Gen, Genderswap, Klaus was born a girl, Niklaus is now Nikole, Nikole Mikaelson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemscarstair/pseuds/jemscarstair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You ever gonna tell me your name?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. She raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>"Nikole," she answered after a long moment of silence. "But you can call me Nik."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roaring 20's

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Genders Studies Contest on Wattpad. I liked it, so I decided it'd be the first thing I ever post on here. Enjoy!

The world could have been ending, the city of Chicago could have been raided by cops trying to find the speakeasies, and no one would have noticed. They were wealthy, they were breaking the law, and they were having fun while doing it. Why would they even stop to consider that they were wasting their money away when they had all the money in the world to spend anyway? With the dancing, the music, the booze, money was not an issue for anyone in Gloria's little speakeasy. Smoke filtered through the air. Laughter rung out every second from different directions. The easygoing atmosphere was apparent the second anyone took a step into the place.

And Nikole Mikaelson wasn't enjoying any of it.

She sat at the bar with her chin in her hand, swirling the alcohol around her glass before she brought it to her red-painted lips and gulped it down in one smooth swipe. Her golden brown hair was cut to her shoulders, curling wildly around her face. Blue eyes swept across the room in a bored manner, taking in the wild dancing and drinking games with little to no interest. She was only there because of her little sister, Rebekah, who wouldn't cease her nagging until Nikole had agreed to tag along.

She didn't like speakeasies very much. She found them obnoxious and tedious. It was hard to get the Original's attention and keep it. Nikole had lost interest in the little Prohibition rebellious bars quite quickly. Rebekah, however, loved them and she sure did know how to talk her way into getting what she wanted. Now Nikole found that her boredom far surpassed her need to please her baby sister. She turned so that her back was to the bar, placing her elbows up on the wood and peering out for her sister so she could get out of there immediately. She caught sight of her sister and slid off the stool, going as if to walk toward her on the dance floor. Before she could, a young man blocked her path.

She looked up at him, eyebrows shooting up. She sensed his vampirism immediately, but he didn't seem to sense hers. Young, she thought, eyeing him thoughtfully. He was handsome, devilishly so, with light brown hair styled with gel, green eyes, and an attractive smile that he was currently showing off to her. She knew who he was, as he was a regular in Gloria's, and she was not impressed. She took a step away from him so that she could properly look up into his face, frustrated that he was taller than her. She would much rather be looking down at him than the other way around.

"You're in my way," she said bluntly, not bothering to be polite. She was tired, bored, and hungry. She didn't have time, nor the patience, for an arrogant baby vampire who thought he owned the world.

"Oh, am I?" He leaned against a nearby banner, his arrogance obvious. Nikole narrowed her eyes. He didn't seem to notice the threat in them. He did, however, notice her annoyance. She would've thought him a fool had he not. "Am I annoying you, sweetheart?"

"Obviously." She glared at him, allowing her vampire visage to transform her face. The veins throbbed painfully below her eyes, but she scarcely noticed the ache anymore. She was pleased to see surprise flit across his face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find my sister." With that, she brushed past him.

"Who are you?" he called after her. She looked back at him over her shoulder, smiling despite her annoyance.

"Your worst nightmare, sweetheart," she called back.

~ ~ ~ ~

"Now, what's a young little bombshell like you doin' sittin' here all alone?"

Nikole pursed her lips to hide her grimace. She was at Gloria's again, thanks to her sister, and she was once again drowning her boredom with alcohol at the bar. As soon as the man had sat on the stool beside her, her temples started to ache. She gave him a droll stare. He could have been attractive, if only he had taken care of himself. Having so much money had made him lazy and sleezy. She curled her lip at him out of pure instinct. He was dying of alcohol poisoning; she could smell it in his blood. Which meant he wasn't worth her time if he couldn't be her meal.

"Avoiding the likes of you," she answered, drinking the rest of her beverage. He didn't seem to take the hint that she wasn't interested. She doubted he would've been smart enough to get it even if he wasn't intoxicated.

"Now, now, don't be a tease," he chuckled, having the nerve to place his hand on her bare knee, beneath her skirt. She stiffened, giving him a deadly glare. The bartender gave her a warning look; he was Gloria's brother, a warlock, and he knew Gloria's rules as well as Nikole did. No killing inside the bar. And she wasn't about to risk her and Gloria's alliance--for she desperately needed a friendly witch willing to help her--just because a guy was being a pig.

"Get," she said slowly, "your hand off of me." She knew he wouldn't. She had far too much experience with men like him. They never took "no" for an answer. It made her livid. Instead of pulling his hand away, it slithered up her thigh. She pushed away from him, disgusted, only for him to grab her wrists roughly and pull her against him.

Don't kill him, was the mantra in her head. Don't kill him. Don't kill him. Don't kill him. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes, momentarily seeing red. I'm going to kill him. To hell with Gloria.

Before she had the chance to reach into his chest cavity and pull out his heart, he was yanked off of her by none other than the little sweetheart that had annoyed her the previous night. She crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her hip as she watched him swear at the guy. After a brief argument, the guy was walking off. Nikole turned her steely gaze to the baby vampire.

"I was going to kill him," she said, sounding almost disappointed. He nodded, walking toward her.

"You would have, and then Gloria would've banned you from this place."

"A shame," she drawled sarcastically, turning her back to him and going to a booth in the shadows. He followed her.

"A shame for me," he proclaimed, sitting across from her. She crossed her legs beneath the table, pursing her lips and watching him closely. "I still don't know who you are."

"Careful, Mr. Salvatore," she cooed, her accent thickening when she said his name. "I might think you actually care."

"Yes, well, all women think I actually care when I don't."

"Hmph," was all she said in reply, slumping back against the leather seat. "You do care, though, don't you? Just a little bit?" He frowned at her. She leaned forward, folding her arms on the table and leaning over it so her face was closer to his. "That little switch only works in small doses, Stefan. If you use it all the time, the faster it'll go away. And then you have to deal with all that disgusting humanity in its wake." He eyed her thoughtfully.

"You talk from experience," he noted. She nodded, leaning back once more.

"I'm very old."

"You don't look old."

"Obviously."

"You ever gonna tell me your name?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Nikole," she answered after a long moment of silence. "But you can call me Nik." 

"Well then, Nik." Stefan narrowed his eyes, a look of determination crossing his face. She raised her eyebrow, drumming her fingers against her arm while she waited for him to speak up. "Wait a second, you're the Original, aren't you? But why do you go by Nik?" he said finally, making Nikole scoff. "It's a bit on the masculine side, don't you think?"

"Well..." She pursed her lips, propping her elbows on the table and setting her chin on her hands, smiling at him. "This is a man's world, Stefan, and names hold power. When people hear the name Nik, they quake in fear, because all they know is that there is an Original named Nik who is capable of montrosities. Now who do you think they would fear or respect more? Nik, the man? Or Nikole, the woman?" He made a thoughtful humming sound.

"So you think they respect you because they fear you?" He frowned. "Fear doesn't equal respect." She simply shrugged.

"Maybe not, but at least it's constant." She smiled again. "The world is always changing, but the one thing that always stays the same...is fear. And it's better to be known by fear than to not be known at all." Abruptly, she thought of Mikael, of one of the many things he had said to her in the few times he had managed to even come close to destroying her.

"No one will care whether you lived or died, girl. No one even recognizes your name. And yet here you are, walking around like you actually matter."

Nikole swallowed thickly before she got to her feet and left the speakeasy altogether, not bothering to even tell Stefan goodbye.

~ ~ ~ ~

If she was hoping that Stefan wouldn't bother her the next time she and Rebekah showed up at the speakeasy, she was surely disappointed. The second she stepped foot into the place, her eyes were darting around, looking for any signs of the little Salvatore so that she could avoid him whenever he came near. Rebekah jumped to the wrong assumption immediately.

"Well, look at you," Rebekah drawled as they made their way to the bar. Nikole cut her a glare out of the corner of her eye, which Rebekah easily brushed off. "Getting all worked up over a baby vampire annoying you. Very non-Nikole-like. You usually kill annoying pests like that. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you fancy him." Nikole rolled her eyes, making a disgusted noise from the back of her throat. Rebekah smirked, giving her a wink before she went off with god only knew who to dance. With a sigh, she continued to the bar, feeling more and more annoyed with each step. She had barely sat down on the stool when he was there, which she should have anticipated.

"I have a question," he stated, reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle for himself as well as two glasses. He proceeded to pour them both a drink, Nikole watching with narrowed eyes the entire time. When she didn't respond to him, he assumed that meant for him to proceed and did just that. Nikole's eyes narrowed even further when he started talking again. "I've heard all about the Originals. There's more than just two. Since Rebekah is your sister, I'm guessing all the Originals are related?" She gave a single nod, answering his question. He nodded with her. "Okay, so here's my question. If that's your family...where are the rest of 'em?" Nikole rolled her eyes.

"Some are dead," she stated flatly. "And some left me because they can't stand me." She hadn't meant to let that come out. She pressed her lips together firmly, letting out a small sigh when she realized she had peaked his interest once again. He raised his glass to his lips.

"Oh? And why can't they stand you?" He smirked. "You prettier than them?"

"Of course I am," she said arrogantly, scoffing and rolling her eyes. "But that isn't why."

"Then, by all means." He motioned both his hands toward her, leaning back in the booth to get more comfortable. "Explain away. We only have eternity." Nikole snorted, though she had to admit that the thought of talking to someone, anyone, did sound oddly appealing. She licked her lips, glancing about the bar to look for her sister, just in case she was listening in on their conversation. She wasn't. She was too busy dancing and drinking and having the time of her life to care.

"My mother, she..." 

Nikole suddenly couldn't stop. She told Stefan everything. About her mother's affair with a werewolf villager, Nikole ending up being the result. About Mikael's blatant cruelty toward her; he hadn't found out about her bastard blood until much later, but he had always expected. About Henrik's death. The ritual to turn them into vampires, her first kill, the truth of her true parentage finally coming out. The godforsaken sacrifice where her mother had killed her closest friend, Tatia, just to bind her werewolf side. How her family scattered after that. Despite the fact that it felt good to finally tell someone about how awful her life had been, she could feel herself sinking into depression.

"So that's why my family can't stand me," she sighed finally, drinking her entire glass with a flick of her wrist. "They want to kill me because I'm a bastard. And not just any bastard, a werewolf bastard." Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration. Only Mikael wanted her dead. But was it such a far of a stretch to believe her siblings did as well? "They hate me," she added miserably.

"They're jealous," Stefan stated, breaking his silence of the past hour. He had such a serious look on his face that Nikole paused in her self-pity party to watch him. "Your family wants you dead because they can never be what you are." Nikole scoffed at that, shaking out her hair.

"Be what?" she asked, her smile holding no humor in it. "An abomination?" She was an abomination, wasn't she? What else could she be other than that?

"No," he said seriously, pointing at her with a frown. "A queen."

For the first time in what felt like forever to her, Nikole genuinely smiled.


End file.
